The End
by unexpectedrevelations
Summary: It's not that I'm crazy... it's that Manfred Zelda Asa are crazy. Oneshot, dark, obviously T. Very angsty, and it's kind of a poem. Based off of 3 fairy tales... and again, I'm not crazy. ManfredZelda, onesided AsaZelda.


I'll explain. Read this before you read the story. Segment one is Asa; segment two is Manfred; three, Zelda. I noticed how A is the first letter of the alphabet, M is the thirteenth, and Z is the twenty-sixth. Interesting, eh? I thought so. Each segment is based on a fairytale—Asa, Red Riding Hood (did you know that that fairytale's actually about rape?); Manfred, Rapunzel (I know it sounds odd… and it is); and Zelda, The Wild Swans (by Hans Christian Anderson). It's kinda dark, and is on the high side of T, but non-graphic. I know it may be hard to "get" at first… but please read it anyways. I think (notice the think) I have a multi-chapter coming too-- more in the style of Spasmodic, which people seemed to like. But for now, enjoy the angst. Please.

Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie Bone.

* * *

**1: A**

_little girl little girl don't go into the scarlet woods_

.

Zing.

Lemon eyes snapcracklepop as he twangs the rubber band again-and-again—

Zing.

Zing.

Zing.

(and-again-and-again-and-again—)

Zing.

.

Her scarlet cloak (_oh, why oh why is it scarlet?)_

Scrapes the forest floor dry as he watches

Her through the eyes of

A monster.

.

"Zel."

"Asa?"

.

He can't bear her tone, can't stand the disappointment. He steps closer and sees the fear in her gold-green eyes—

_Oh my love what hath we done? _

—and kisses her harder than fire, harder than ice.

She squirms to get away but she cannot for he is—

He is the wolf. He loves her too hard but this—this cannot be love.

.

And—and after, he knows why she chose Manfred over him. And he finally understands.

And he finds that love isn't what he'd always thought it would be.

And so he is forever a beast, hissy-twitchy at night, running four-legged away from everything—

.

Whilst the raven-haired girl lies battered and bruised within the folds of a scarlet cloak and wishes hard for what she can never have.

.

_(the beginning has fled. the middle remains. what has become of the end?)_

* * *

**2: M**

_let down your golden hair and I will set you free; think not of yourself but only of me_

.

Through the soporific fog of red wine he thinks on his captors—nay, his _holders_

And they are not what he'd expected.

He pictures the wheelchair and the mother's exodus but the image doesn't merge.

He sees them now for what they are, black as white and white as black can be

A reddish haired boy with a mordant grin and a girl with a long nose and starry green eyes.

They are his captors, the ones who left, and he curses them for leaving him behind.

.

He knows that he will live his life here.

He has begun to hear the sordid song of –_ahhhhh I'm crazy wake me up this can't be real—_

But he has already learned to ignore it.

He knows, more importantly, that he will die here.

Oh yes, he will die and leave no descendants.

.

_Unto your children and your children's children… as numerous as stars in the sky they shall be._

.

_But that's not the life for me._

.

Up above, he wishes for escape. He wishes for companionship, for sour citrus eyes, cinnamon freckles dotting the bridge of a bony nose and a pointy-canined mouth, wise but laughing.

Up above, he wishes for poison. He wishes for love, for sharp cheekbones and sharper hips, just pointy enough to fit his hands, thinking of black lashes and bloodied lips, torn but amorous.

He doesn't know now which are only dreams and which really happened.

What scares him is that, someday, he won't be able to remember them anymore.

.

_Asa and Zel… Asa and Zel… Asa and Zel Asa and Zel Asa and Zel and Zel and Zel and Zel and Zel_

_ZeldaZeldaZeldaZeldaZelda_

But never any Manfred.

.

It hurts to be the one left behind.

.

_(the beginning has fled. the middle remains. what has become of the end?)_

* * *

**3: Z**

_white feathers bright as night needlethread the firelight_

.

It's the witching hour, and she knows it.

She wishes (_if only if) _she could be burned for such a crime.

Oh, to watch those pretty flames dance alight—to finally scorch-to-sleep in the arms of her Manfred.

She grins, hopeful and luminescent but

It is not to be.

.

Rooftop garden, cold and bleak—she watches there when they're asleep.

Midnight hair pools into silky threads about the shingles and she wonders—

Why must love only die?

Red mouth smiling, she gazes at the stars and twirl-twists

the white rose between her pale fingers.

The thorns pierce her fingertips and pearls of blood arise but still she spins

Spins for her swans, her brother and her lover.

.

The sleeping city shuts its eyes to the young woman who stands ragged and unflinching, arms outstretched, on the very edge of the rooftop of the empty house

on the brink, the very parapet of death…

…_who will love me, hmmm? here I am, all ready and willing…_

…but no-one ever comes.

.

And the seraph watches in empty mirth as the bell tolls and

_dong_

she wonders

_dong_

she remembers

_dong_

she relives

_dong_

she sorrows

_dong_

she claws her way back

_dong_

she droops

_dong_

she looks at last

_dong_

she sees

_dong_

she screams

_dong_

she finally cries

_dong_

and she loves and—

_dong_

she jumps.

.

Faraway, looking out a castle window, a young man waits.

—and he watches his little half-swan

At last spread her one wing and

Fly.

.

A mournful howl echoes over the sleeping city—

—and Manfred Bloor finally cries.

.

_(the beginning has fled. the middle remains. what has become of the end?)_

_

* * *

_It's not that I'm crazy... it's that Manfred Zelda Asa are crazy. And okay, to be fair, maybe I'm a bit crazy too.

That being said, review. I can't make you, but I'd like it if you would.


End file.
